The Big Quake
by Where'n'why
Summary: (COMPLETED March 27, 2015) San Andreans have always feared the big earthquake. When it finally happens, our favorite criminals try their best to save themselves and the ones they love.
1. A little shakiness

"HATE"

That was the only word the Canadian with the dark hair could muster. Hate word was the only word he could use to describe Los Santos. He hated the plastic and silicon women, the stupid men, the accents, the hipsters, the celebrities, the noise, the… the everything. He desired quite strongly for this city to disappear. He didn't know how this hell on earth would disappear, but he knew for sure that he wanted it to.

Presently the Canadian was sitting in his Bodhi, outside of the strip club he had … acquired from the previous manager. It was hot. He was sitting in an un-air conditioned car at noon in L.S. He did not care. He was used to heat; his trailer was in Sandy Shores. He was far away from that torrid paradise he called Sandy Shores.

The heists were over he had mad forty-two million dollars from the UD. That was two months ago. He had nothing to spend it on. He had planes, cars, and all the whores he could want. He did not need that money.

He was bored. Very, very bored.

Boredom was not an emotion Trevor could handle well, For Trevor, boredom begat restlessness, restlessness begat recklessness. Recklessness meant injuries any citizen caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. He would have gone to Maude for another job, but the only criminals left in Blaine County were associates of his. He would have made a few weapons runs for Guzman, but the business was slowing after Ammu-nation expanded into Canada and Mexico. Wade was gone. He got rid of the clownface after several weeks of hearing about horrorcore.

"I could go and make some meth. No, Chef always gets all jumpy. Don't need no 'xplosion. Fuck! MY LIFE IS SHIT! TREVOR, THINK OF SOMETHING TO DO!"

He was getting fidgety.

He turned the key, and the dirty, red pickup moaned to life. He pulled out on to Strawberry Avenue. He still did not know what to do but he felt a drive around San Andreas would help him think. He drove north, choosing that direction because he wanted to drive for hours. After an hour, Trevor was stopped on Whispymound Drive about to ascend the hill where Franklin's house was.

Suddenly he felt shaking. He thought it was the truck at first. He turned it off. The tremors continued and grew. The cars windows were rattling, the rear-view mirror was falling out of place. The quaking grew harsher. Trevor looked downtown the Maze Bank Building was on fire in the distance. The shaking was showing no signs of stopping. Trevor finally got the strength to say what this was. This was the big one.

"EARTHQUAKE!"

The truck was starting to roll down the hill. Trevor had not set the parking brake. He turned the truck back on hoping that Franklin's home survived and that its owner was still in it.

" Franklin," he was shouting up the hill to get the other's attention. He parked the car in Franklin's driveway. He turned off the truck and hopped out of it in one swift motion. Within a second he was ringing Frank's doorbell. Franklin answered the door.

"Shit dawg, I'm glad you okay come in." He ushered the Canadian in. "You call Mike yet. After a muthafucka like that, we gonna get a tsunami or some shit."

Trevor nodded no.

"Lemme get him on speaker then. Turn on the TV. My backup generator kicked on." Franklin scrolled through his contacts and dialed Michael. He put the phone on speaker

"Frank, thank fuck you're alive! We're all good down here we don't need any help."

Trevor turned around. "Not so fast pork chop, the weather service is predicting 150 foot a tsunami and Rockford Hills is too low. You gotta pick up Lester the Molester and bring him up here. Bring as much food as you can, preferably in cans. Bring as much gas as your cars can too."

"Thanks for the heads up T." CLICK

"Did you call you boy Lamar yet, Frank? What about your aunt?"

"Thank God, he in L.C. with his cousin Malc or something like that. My aunt is in West Elizabeth doing some colonic pelvic floor pussy clenching class or some shit." Trevor blinked rapidly wondering if Franklin was exaggerating. Franklin, ignoring the other man's exasperated face, continued, "How 'bout your boy Wade and that conspiracy guy on the radio."

"I was getting tired of Wade in the strip club so I sent him back up to Sandy Shores. I don't know if the Alamo Sea is high enough. Don't know if the wave'll come up Cassidy or the Zancudo River." He dialed Ron on the cell phone.

"Yes boss," the nervous man answered.

"Ron, collect Wade and Chef and fly a helicopter to the coordinates that I'm 'bout to send you land on the roof. It's flat enough an it'll support the weight. Bring as much gasoline as you can for the generator. Bring those satellite phones too. Actually, two choppers can fit on the roof. Tell Chef to pilot the Maverick. Get moving that big ol' wave will be here in five hours."

"You got it boss"

Franklin was astonished. He thought "_Damn, when you give T something to do, he focus._

Two hours later Amanda pulled up in Michael's car with Jimmy and Tracey. She knocked on the door and the calmer of the two men, the owner of the house on the hill answered the door.

"Come on in Mrs. De Santa. Where's Mike?"

"He went to get Lester and some supplies. Speaking of, you and Jim should unload them from the car. We brought all the cans we had in the house, all the medical supplies and all the booze we could find. And call me Amanda."

"'kay, Amanda, I got four bedrooms in my house. I don't know how we gonna situate but we gonna do it."

"Hell, thanks for opening up your home. You did only God knows what with my husband, but we really appreciate this. Don't we kids?"

"Yeah, ma," said the roly-poly redhead.

"Yes we do, Franklin," said Tracey, batting her eyes.

Thirty minutes later Michael arrived in Amanda's convertible with Lester in tow. He had a box of files and on top of that a box of electronics. All four men of action want to Franklin's bedroom for a powwow.

"That tsunami is on the way, Frank," said Lester. "Now, how much cash do we have on us?"

"I got $5,500," said Trevor, "the rest is in the Bank of Liberty, but I've got the other 1.5 billion in the bank. Thanks for the investment tips Frank."

"You really gotta thank Lest for that. I got $12,000. I hope Fleeca has my muthafuckin' money insured ," replied Frank.

Michael had $7,200 on him. He was the most frightened of all. The Maze Bank Tower and Arena would send Maze Bank's stock to hell.

Lester thought for a moment and started outlining some options. "The way I see it, we've got three options. I heard Trevor's got his boys on the way here with a couple of helicopters. We could load everybody up and fly to Fort Zancudo. I tapped into their coms. Those army pussies can't even stay around. They're all evacuated. Well 90% of them are gone. You're all well armed, so that shouldn't be a problem. So we would go there grab a plane and fly to the mainland, to North Yankton. We would have to hide there to avoid suspicion. There might be some heat but you and Mikey can take care of that easy enough. Option two, we hijack a boat that's big enough for all ten of us. The only one I know of is at the Merryweather dock in Paleto Bay. That means we'll be fucking with Percival, again. That presents a problem because the boat would have to have enough gas to get to the mainland, again we have to go to a place as to avoid suspicion. A Merryweather transport would be the only boat that could get us back. Option three, we hunker down here. I have in that box a generator powered by water. Don't ask. I'm a good thief. It decomposes the hydrogen from the water and can give us perpetual power, one rescue gets here we take them out. We _can't_ have them identifying us together, as we match the descriptions of the suspects from that… thing that happened. None of these are ideal but these are our options. Since it's your house we're using as base, it's you decision kid."

"Fuck, I don't like this. I guess I'll go with option …


	2. OPTION ONE

I will write all three scenarios. They all will make sense with the plot.

* * *

"Fuck… I don't like this. I guess I'll go with option one. So how exactly do we do this?" said Franklin upset with the forced decision.

"So here's what we'll do," Lester started, the gears in his head were spinning vigorously. "When Trevor's helicopters get here we'll take the one with Trevor's… um … slogan-"

"Pants down, dick out!" T shouted. He received glares from his two partners in crime. Upstairs in Frank's living room, Trevor's outburst was met with awkward silence and a disgusted glare from Amanda. She only hoped nobody was being victimized in the room beneath her.

"Um, yeah. So you three take that chopper. Chef will be coming with you, since he can handle a gun. You'll be able to land on the base without being blown up. Your family and Wade will be hovering on the south side of Lago Zancudo in the chopper Ron'll be flying. You will land in the parking lot of the base. Well you know what to do. Then about 300 yards out you'll reach the hangar with the plane. There will be some resistance just hold it off and, Uncle Sam will back off. It's not easy. It's not ideal, but it'll save our asses. Once we get to Yankton we steal another plane and we're off to Liberty City."

"L.C. Damn Lester, when you plan big, you plan real big," said Franklin in astonishment.

Just then, the two thuds of helicopters landing sounded on the roof. The plan was put into action immediately. Ron, Amanda, Jimmy, Tracey, Wade, and Lester all boarded one of the helicopters. They had no clue what was about to happen. Trevor piloted the other chopper. He, Chef, Michael, and Franklin all armed themselves with the ammunition from Franklin's cache. The men all looked at each other.

"We ready to do this, guys," Michael said exhaling. He was nervous. He had never been afraid of anything this simple. In his own words, he robbed banks and ran whores, but for some reason his palms were moist with the product of nervousness. The prospect of robbing the Army of the United States of America would not have daunted him before. Hell, he'd attempted to rob a better armed private militia. He had to pull himself together. He knew that this was different. His family was at stake. He felt the same way when Weston sent Merryweather to his house. I was an amalgam of guilt, anger, and … grief. He felt so guilty for this tense, dangerous situation that he exposed his wife and children to. He was angry he ever got involved with the wrong crowd when he was in his twenties. He grieved the life he once had. Sure it was in some shitty trailer in the middle of nowhere, but that life was certainly happier for all involved. Here he was about to fucking shoot up an army base, so that he and his family could be safe. "Shit," is all he could mutter as the whirlybird was about to land in the parking lot to start this mission.

The chopper touched down on the asphalt. Three men emerged from the vehicle with guns drawn. Trevor, Franklin, and Chef descended from the copter. Franklin was carrying the classic Assault Rifle. Trevor was carrying a sawn off shot gun. Chef had a grenade launcher, his favorite weapon after the Aztecas attacked the meth lab. Michael stayed in the heli with a sniper rifle, and Ron brought the helicopter to forty feet off the ground to give the shooter the vantage.

The three men on the ground proceeded with caution. They were all wearing armor, but they were acutely aware that the military's was superior. Trevor had expended a whole clip trying to take one of the military men down. All three men knew that headshots would be the most efficient way of making their goals. They moved forward. Ten yards, twenty yards, fifty yards. Michael was providing sufficient assistance with his rifle. Suddenly, a large flash of light that created a large explosion that launched a projectile at Michael's helicopter. Ron swerved, narrowly missing the contact that would have ended his existence.

Amanda, who was in the other vehicle, cringed when she saw how close the rocket came. Lester tried his best to comfort her, "Don't worry, Amanda. I've never seen anything that can take him down." That was very little consolation.

The men on the ground continued. 100 yards, 150 yards. The grenade launcher was very effective. The army was starting to thin as they saw their fellow cadets dying. Finally, the command all of the desperate men were waiting for.

"Retreat to the barracks!"

Almost immediately most of the men ran like hell to the barracks. The attackers did not stop shooting. Michael, especially, did not want for the army to try to ground the plane they wanted to requisition. With all four men shooting their weapons, not one soldier had made it back to the barracks. Trevor had only a second to think of the irony of his killing fellow servicemen, before he started to sprint to the hangar that housed the plane. He arrived first. There it was a beautifully painted plane that was the size of a 777. He called dibs on the pilot's seat, and took that seat. Meanwhile, Lester was gingerly flying his heli to the hangar. He landed softly. He rushed to the plane and boarded it only after Michael's family and Wade had embarked. Lester still took the time to admire Amanda's ass. She did not let it show, but she noticed it. Franklin and Chef arrived together and entered the plane. Ron landed, and entered with Michael.

Trevor took attendance, "Mikey, check. Frankie, check. Lesty, check." That earned a groan from the aforementioned man with the wasting disease. "Mandy, check." T started the plane. The jets roared to life. "Tracey, check. Jimmy Jizzle, check. Ronnie, check. Wadey, check. Cheffy, checky. Everyone who's not here say, 'not here'" That was met with tense silence. "Transponder, off. Here we go."

They took off. Trevor flew low and slow until San Andreas was out of sight for nearly half an hour. He gained altitude and they flew for several hours.

During that time Michael and Amanda had an interesting figh… I mean conversation.

"Michael are you gonna explain to me and the two of you're children what the fuck just happened?"

"What?"

"YOU just killed about fifty army guys! Lester , who, by the way, was staring at my ass, just said that this doesn't phase you! Explain, now."

Michael spoke in a calmer voice than expected, as if he was explaining long division to a third grader. "Look, look, you know ho we used to live. I've been in pickles before, you know that. I can get out of a bind real quick."

"You know what, I've been thinking, I didn't see you during any of those big robberies. Where were you when Vangelico was stuck up?" By now both tracey and Jimmy had perked up, listening intently.

"I was… out."

"Out?" she inquired.

"Yeah, out."

"What about the Union Depository. Look me in the eye, and tell me that you had nothing to do with that." She aggressively grabbed his face by the chin, and pierced his soul with her gaze.

"Fine I did it. Both of them. When you're in Didier Sachs you're not complaining, so be happy. With some smart investments our great-great grandkids will want for nothing. Look at what's in my bank account." He showed her the amount of digits. Her mouth shut, and he sat there with a smirk adorning his lips.

The plane flew into the sunset as the mainland came into view.


	3. OPTION TWO

"Fuck, I don't like this. I guess I'll go with option two," Franklin said annoyed with his forced decision. "So how exactly are we gonna do this?"

"Well, Frank this is not gonna be fun. You three along with Chef and Ron shall go to the end of the Paleto Pier, and find a Merryweather UJ-443. It's basically a yacht that can top 150 knots."

Michael whistled and said, "Shit. That's like 170 miles per hour. We need to go that fast?"

"Those Merryweather scum have enough room on that boat to accommodate all of Paleto Bay and then some. But we've already established that they are assholes," Lester continued, "And, not so fast, Mike. First things first you three have got to take out all the Merryweather on the boat. Then, I, have to get on the boat and disable the tracking system. Hold off any Merryweather while I do my job. Ron, Wade and Mike's family will be in Amanda's car waiting for the signal over the headset.

"Why, not my car?" Mike asked.

"Merryweather would make your car in a second." Trevor replied.

"Right… anyway." Lester exhaled as he spoke. "Ron, he will not be involved and he'll keep calm. When I'm done, and Merryweather's done, we'll take off. A tsunami in open water is just a ripple. So we get started when those helicopters get here. We're gonna hitch Amanda's car to the second bird. All four of us will go in the first bird. Everybody else is on the second one.

BREAK

After the flight to Paleto Bay, Mike, Frank, Trev, Chef, and Lest got on the first chopper.

The second helicopter with Amanda's car winched on flew and landed ten miles away from the town. Ron got into the driver's seat. Amanda rode, mush to her dismay, shotgun. Wade sat in between the De Santa kids. Jimmy's roundness made it a tight squeeze. Ron started the car. He was driving in the opposite direction of most of the traffic. The poor folks in their cars just wanted to higher ground. Some went up Mount Chiliad. The Altruist Cult had a field day He drove the speed limit to avoid suspicion. The avoidance didn't work. A highway patrolman stopped them. He hopped off of his motorcycle and approached the car. Nervous Ron got nervous.

"Calm down, Ron, I can handle this," Amanda stated matter-of-factly. The patrolman walked up , the top of the convertible was already down

"Do you know why I stopped you sir?"

"No. I don't. I was under the limit."

"This is true, but the governor has ordered an evacuation of north Blaine County. So you've got to turn round."

Ron gulped. Amanda interjected, "My mother is in Paleto. I swear, if you don't let my husband and I pass, I'll rip your heart out. Let us through, Governor Murray doesn't have to know about this. Sue wouldn't find out."

"No ma'am. I'm afraid, I can't." The officer was flustered to say the least.

"Please let us pass." Ron said

"Wait a second," started the officer. He squinted really hard. He looked at Ron. The gears were turning in his head. Ron had sunken into his seat. Amanda squinted at the officer with equal distrustfulness. The officer face relaxed. "Are you Ron Jakowski from the radio?"

Ron nodded in the affirmative.

The cop was star struck. "I'll escort you to the bay if you want if I can take a selfie with you."

Ron was surprised. "I'll do the selfie, but the escort isn't necessary, really."

"Thanks Mr. Ron, keep seeking the truth."

They took the selfie. Ron got back into the car and drove, quite relieved, to the spot where they agreed to wait for the others to give the go-ahead, the parking lot of the Baptist Church in town. It was a wonder the nervous, nervous man did not evacuate his bowels during the police encounter.

A few blocks away, the expert killers had already dispatched the first group of Merryweather. Chef really did the most damage, as he killed over a dozen militiamen of his own steam. Trevor made a mental note to congratulate him later. Lester had boarded the boat to disable the pinger. The boat was a beauty at three stories tall. It would almost appear as a private vessel. Almost, it had a few too many loaded guns to be an ordinary person's property. The yacht was noisome. The terrible smell of gun powder, blood, sweat, and death filled the air. Thankfully, all of the blood was located on the deck. They could power-wash that away in a minute. His back was turned to where all the action would originate. He was hacking as the second wave of attackers came into view. Franklin knew the sound. Buzzards, and a lot of them, were on the way. He looked to his right, and he and Trevor exchanged knowing glances. Trevor, used his favorite weapon, the RPG. Franklin retrieved his AK-47.

Five attack helicopters approached in a V-formation. They were intimidating indeed. Ron's party saw the force. Ron gulped. Amanda sighed. Wade cooed in awe. Jimmy dropped an expletive that rhymed luck. Tracey panicked. "Those aren't going to go for daddy, are they?" Amanda sighed again.

Lester was still destroying the pinger. Michael was watching the man's back. He was armed with a sniper. As the V got closer, took aim at the pilot of the helicopter in the center and most outward. Boom! Direct hit. The helicopter spun out, taking out the firehouse of the town. Hell the town was about to be submerged in seventy feet of water anyway. Trevor sent a grenade, to the heli most to his right. It did not make contact with either. It exploded in between them, and both pilot, moving evasively, crash into each other.

Quoth Franklin, "I guess it's my turn." He shot at the pilot. He only expended a clip with both helicopters.

"I'm done," Lester shouted, "Get the others here right now!"

Trevor spoke into his earpiece. " Ron, get everyone over here."

There was not response. For once in his life, Trevor was scared. He knew that he treated Ron like garbage, but he needed that garbage. Ron wasn't there to kill time anymore. Ron was the closest thing Trevor had to a brother. He would never admit such a ghastly thing, but it was the truth. Trevor needed a brother. With a terrible mother like his and his only blood brother dead, Trevor needed a brother. And Wade. Trevor needed Wade. Wade wasn't just Trevor's toy anymore. Wade was like a five year old adopted son he cared for. Trevor knew such an analogy would make him a pedophile, but Wade was now a part of the family.

"Ron, answer me!" He was almost screaming.

Michael stepped forward in a huff. "You had better hope that son of a bitch didn't get my wife or my fucking kids killed, asshole."

"Their fine. You've put them in more danger than this sugartits!"

The screeching of tires could be heard as a red convertible appeared out of the distance. Trevor and Mike breathed a collective sigh of relief as all five passengers appeared safe and sound. They quintet all sprinted to the boat. Fortunately Franklin had washed the deck while M and T were shouting at one another. They all boarded. Michael took the helm and the yacht was soon at 125 knots.

Amanda came to speak to Michael after the skirmish.

"Michael, I've been thinking."

"Yeah."

"I didn't see you during any of the big robberies. When Ron said you spent some time hiding out in the desert with Trevor, I got suspicious."

"I guess it's time I showed you," he said exhaling sharply. He pulled out his phone. When he opened up his Maze Bank Statement, her jaw dropped. He smirked as he steered the boat towards the land appearing due east.


	4. OPTION THREE

"Fuck, I don't like this. I guess I'll go with option three." Franklin always hated being placed into a corner. Frankly, he was glad that he even had the choice. He was acutely aware that Chamberlain Hills would be gone. He was also glad Lamar took Chop to Liberty with him. That was one less hassle to deal with. What he was not elated about was the fact that Trevor could ruin all sorts of shit for him. Mike's family was a nuisance, but he had to deal with Lamar's shit constantly. He could manage.

Trevor spoke, "Now, you just said that, you have a generator that runs on water. How the-"

Lester cleared his throat. "Well, I'll tell you, remember that thing I had you put back into the water, a while ago? That is what that thing did. I 'found' the blueprints and built it in miniature. It'll be enough to power this house. Since we're in a nice ZIP code, the rescuers will be here to help us soon after the wave comes. We have enough time for us to take showers before the wave comes. Now I'm going to connect this thing to our grid."

* * *

It was agreed among all the guests that Trevor would shower last. Amanda went first. She let the warm jet wash over her body. She was scared. She thought to herself, "What the hell did I do in a past life to deserve this shit? I mean, this man has almost gotten himself and me, and our kids killed. Now I'm taking a shower in a stranger's house. God knows what they're gonna do to get us away from this place." She was out in fifteen minutes. Over the next four hours everybody showered for ten to fifteen minutes. Trevor went last and forced Ron to go in with him. He opted for a bubble bath. Michael, Amanda, Jimmy, Tracey, Franklin, Chef, Lester, and Wade were silent, as the sound of Trevor singing the alphabet reverberated through the house in the hills.

Ron had, more times that he would care to admit, seen Trevor in various stages of dress. This was new a new low. He was forced to watch Trevor play in a half filled tub with a rubber ducky. He was glad, at least, that Wade didn't have to witness this. Then, a Canadian accent broke his concentration.

"Ron, come and help me with my back."

* * *

After Trevor's serenade was over, the man with the meth empire stepped out from the bathroom. He walked past Franklin's bedroom; the door was closed, locked. He ascended the stairs and joined the rest of the group. Lester was on his laptop. Franklin, Jimmy, Tracey, and Wade were watching the news on the television. Chef was looking towards downtown, waiting for destruction. Michael and Amanda were nowhere to be found. T, of course, asked the most obvious question.

"Where, the fuck is pork chop."

"I don't know where they at, and don't you go lookin' neither," Franklin ordered.

"Fuck that." Trevor went yelling. "Mikey, Mikey, come out, come out wherever you are." He went walking downstairs. " Come out you fat snake." He walked to Franklin's bedroom door. "Don't tell me you're getting lucky in there Michael."

Franklin didn't say it, but he hoped that the couple hadn't done anything either. He knew that within hours he would be on his way to a different place. Still, he hoped that his bed hadn't been defiled.

The door clicked as it unlocked. The door creaked as Michael opened it slowly. He was prolonging the process as if he had something to hide. The door was still opening as Franklin started to blush. He would be embarrassed if his teddy bear, Mr. Butterfield had been found. The door finally opened to reveal a fully clothed Michael and Amanda. Amanda was sitting on the bed. Franklin walked in swiftly, not giving M a chance to explain. He was relieved the sheets were not disturbing and the smell of lust was absent (and Mr. Butterfield was safe and sound).

"Kid, we were just talking." Michael said.

"We didn't do anything, trust me," Amanda stated airily.

"The only thing we did was talk." Michael turned red as he said that.

Trevor, being Trevor, seized on the opportunity. "But you were talking about sexy times."

"No, T, we were not," Michael went from rosy, to fire truck red. "Amanda,"she scowled as he mentioned her name, "Amanda, while I was in the shower, looked at my phone to because hers died. She opened my Maze account and saw the large balance."

"Now I know what the three of you have been up to. Vangelico, Union Depository, everything." Amanda was smug.

* * *

All four of the people in that room went back upstairs The news said that the wave would be arriving imminently. Franklin suggested going up to the roof to set up the 'rescue' beacons. Only the three protagonists ascended to the roof. The beacon was set up and the men were awaiting the wave to hit the city. Franklin took his phone out of his pocket. It was 16:14. The sun was already behind the hills so there was no glare. The city was silent. The smog had actually cleared. The vista was ironically beautiful. Then the first wave appeared and L.S. tuned into a floodplain again. The Maze Bank tower started to lean as the wave pummeled it. It was pretty obvious that L.S. was going to lose a large amount of its population. They didn't have time to think about that. They were going to get away from here and be safe wherever Lester planned for them to go. Hopefully they wouldn't die in the attempt to save themselves. They continued to watch as smoke started to rise from down town. Some of the tops of skyscrapers were on fire as their basements filled with water. The sprinklers didn't work so the buildings will just have to burn.

As Lester, had portended, the rescue helicopter had arrived within an hour. It landed on Whispymound Drive, very gracefully for an inclined road. The heli could hold twenty, more than enough for the group. Three armed men, including the pilot stepped out of the chopper. The three men still on the roof had their snipers ready. They took the rescuers out immediately. Lester was inside disconnecting his generator, and the lights went out immediately.

"Go, go, go!" Michael shouted as his family ant the others entered the chopper. The three snipers descended the ladder. Lester got his supplies, boxed them, and got into the chopper last. Trevor took the controls of the heli and switched off the pinger. A voice crackled over the radio.

"Rescue, Rescue Chopper twenty! We've lost your signal, respond."

"This is twenty," Trevor replied. "We're returning to base over. Transponder is working. Twenty souls on board."

"Roger that."

Trevor flew to Zancudo. The Lago Zancudo had overflowed its banks. The water had reached the steep sides. The water was flowing in the opposite direction of how it usually flows. It was strangely beautiful. The fort itself was completely dry. The long runway was filled with small airplanes. Trevor spotted the one the plane he wanted and landed the chopper right next to it. The whole party descended from the heli. They ran to the plane before the army even noticed.

They were off before anything could be done. The army had it on radar until Trevor disabled the transponder. They were on the way to the mainland.


	5. Franklin and Mr Moon

I'm so sorry for the delay, but my laptop charger decided to to quit. At least it can't claim unemployment. That was a political jo... Oh, whatever.

* * *

The journey to North Yankton was long to say the least. The flight had taken several hours and it was dark when the group arrived. Michael, Franklin, and Lester were still awake chatting about their options. Lester had, in his computer-like mind, planned the journey and had been doing so since he moved to L.S. Granted; he did not plan on ever being in contact with Michael or the psychopath. He certainly never thought he would meet Franklin. Now, that he was in the situation, he was thankful that of all people he had these three. Presently, Michael, Franklin and he were sitting towards the front of the plane, while Trevor piloted and the others slept. The door to the cockpit was closed, locked in fact, and strange grunting and slapping noises were coming from the cockpit.

"So, Lest," Michael awoke him from his reverie, "What are we gonna do when we get to Yankton. You know that T and I can't go outside. We don't need to be recognized by anyone who hasn't seen us in a decade."

"Yeah," Franklin added. "I know we won't be here permanently, but is the stopover brief or will I be going into town for supplies.

Lester spoke haltingly, "Yes… I don't know how you knew that, but yes Frank. When we land steal a car. Drive into the town and go to the general store. Before you ask, yes it's open at this hour Pick up some supplies. Water, granola bars, batteries, and flashlights, stuff like that.

"A'ight. I can do that." Franklin said.

Michael, suddenly, got the nearly insatiable urge to laugh hysterically. He suppressed it.

The moaning from the cockpit intensified and stopped abruptly. Muffled by the door, came one utterance, "mother." The three men looked at the door. Michael disgusted. Franklin mortified. Lester indifferent. And on the other side of the door, Trevor elated. Ron stirred from his sleep and looked at the three men for confirmation of the sound that woke him. He looked at Michael's face and received that confirmation. The nervous man cringed. He went back to sleep shortly thereafter.

It was cool, as it was one o'clock in the morning. It was still summer, but being this far north meant that the days were warm and pleasant, not torrid. The single runway of the airport was illuminated with a line of yellowish lights. No one was sitting at the Control Tower, as Lester had predicted. The town only saw two to three planes landing a month. Trevor landed the plane and taxied it to a hangar. Well, it was the only hangar there, but it had a passenger jet in it. Trevor turned off the jet and Franklin disembarked immediately. He was wearing black jeans and a dark blue long-sleeve button-up shirt. Franklin was determined to go to the 24 hour shop and get his goods quickly. He wanted to spend as little time in the middle of nowhere as possible.

He looked around wondering how he would get around. He certainly would walk into town by himself. Hell, he'd been born and raised in L.S. the capital of cars. He grew up in a hot city with the worst public transportation in the country. Owning, or being in possession of a vehicle was required and thus became second nature. It wasn't until he got into his twenties, that he started to care about what the cars he drove looked like. When he was in his teens, committing grand theft auto, all he cared about was if the car had wheels, a radio, and air conditioning.

Franklin walked to the parking lot adjacent to the airport. There were three cars in the lot. He chose a black sedan as to not draw any attention. He drove towards the lights in the town. He figured that the store will be towards the center of the town. He was right. He parked outside. F went to the ATM and took out about $2,000. He walked in and was given a strange look by cashier. Ignoring the investigatory gaze, Franklin stocked himself with all he deemed most necessary. He walked to the register to pay for his goods. He took a few seconds to examine the cashier. The cashier was an old white man, who looked like he could drop dead any second. His name tag said Herbert Moon. Frank made eye contact with him.

"Are you travelling through?"

"Yes, I am, on my way to," Franklin had to think quickly, "Armadillo."

"Well you know that we don't get too many colored folk around here. You had best pay for these supplies and git. I don't like blacks, never did. I really think that you're an invention from the British Jewish homosexual elite.

"What the fuck?"

What people don't realize is that real 'muricans like me won't fall for the lies. I came from Armadillo so I know you better het your supplies and git."

"Well that's all I want to do."

Franklin put the money and the counter and walked out muttering, "Racist, old fool."

The drive back to the airport was done in silence. He drove at a reasonable speed on the road called Airport approach road.

He mumbled, "How fuckin' original."

F did not think too much of the old man as he drove back to the airport. He noticed that the road actually looked somewhat new. He noticed that he was literally breathing more easily.

When Franklin got back to the airport, the second plane was loaded with all the passengers and their effects. He ditched the stolen car and planted a sticky bomb on it. Franklin marched his way to the airport with his supplies and put them in the new plane. The passengers were all awake having been riled to move. For the most part the passengers were silent. Wade and Ron were the exceptions. Wade was asking Ron about ice cream. Ron, in his nervousness was fidgeting and speaking into a tape recorder. All the black man could do was scoff at the display. Michael and Trevor saw the look on his face upon his re-entry. They mistook the rolling of his eyes from the various activities of the perfect strangers.

"What's wrong Frank?" Mike asked.

"Nothing, but I just ran into some racist old fool at the convenience store." Frank said, frowning. It wasn't a sad frown as much as it was trying to conceal anger.

"Don't tell me Herbert Moon is still alive. I bet he told you about the 'British Jewish Homosexual elite' didn't he? He was always a real crazy fucker. Herbert Moon," Michael said, instsantly suspecting the man from Armadillo.

"Yes that's exactly what his fucking nametag said."

Michael was gob smacked. "That man was old when my mom was a kid. We used to wonder how he wasn't dead. He's a living relic, kid, don't worry about him."

"I ain't. I set a little charge for him at the back of his store. When we take off he'll see that." Franklin had a mischievous grin on his face.

The other men could only smile at that thought. Lester was glad. He met Moon. It was permissible in his mind if he were to die.

When they got to altitude in the second plane, Franklin made a call to the contact 'Detonate' on his phone. The car blew up and the store blew up. Herbert Moon, however, had decided to take a walk twenty minutes before the explosion. He was uninjured. When he heard the explosions he went into a fit of senility. He shouted in the street. "Hopefully that Marston sees one of those British homosexuals. He'll see the truth." When he had finished he was in to middle of the only lit street in town, Main Street. He was on the yellow lines in the road. A group of teenagers that had just exited the cinema were staring. Mr. Moon moved on.

As the plane neared Liberty City the horizon began to lighten. Trevor was nervous of how they would land. Francis International was probably the most secure airport in the world. Trevor was about to call for Lester as Lester entered the cockpit. Lester had changed clothes and had donned a determined look on his face. He sat in the co-pilot's seat. He was stern with Trevor.

"Level out this plane. We're about to fly over Alderney." He said this with a new sort of austerity. He got on the radio. "Good day, good, good day, can Francis LC hear me?"

"Good day. We hear you, we hear you."

"We are Iago Air 912 coming in for landing may we approach."

"Approach cleared. Come on down."

"Thank you coming down. Taxiing down to the Crest hangar. ETA is 15."

"All cleared"

Lester switched the radio off. Trevor found new respect for L. He realized he had been a bully throughout their whole professional relationship. It was time to make amends. He wasn't good at apologizing. He wasn't going to say it outright. He would have to work towards being more appreciative to Lester. He'd have to work to be more decent to everybody. That included Wade too he guessed. He promised that he would stop treating Wade as a pet, and start to treat him as an equal. Well, maybe a son. Let's not get carried away just yet.

"Lester that was very good. Thank you." He said that with sincerity.

Lester did not respond. He was unsure if that was truthful or not.

When they landed and taxied to the furthest hangar from the radar at the airport. It was empty. When they entered it, they shut the doors behind them. They all disembarked. Now Franklin, Michael, Amanda, Trevor, Wade, Lester, Ron, Chef, Lester, Tracey, and Jimmy were all in a strange city. They didn't know much about it either. The only thing they knew, was that it had boroughs, the Rotterdam Tower was in Algonquin and that the new Global Commerce Center or as some called it the Liberty Tower was almost complete. Lady Happiness was on an island in the middle of the water somewhere too. Wade asked a rather astute question. "Where are we going to go now?"


	6. Where are we going to go now?

"Where are we going to go now?" Wade was right, where were they to go? They were all in a strange city. They all knew that it was America, but they were all somewhat new to the place. Sure, Mike had been here a couple of times while he was operating in Carcer City. But that was long ago. The Twin Towers of the Global Commerce Center were gone after the incident and the new thing on that plot of land was like a stalagmite. They had turned the old footprints to enormous fountains that held the names of all those who died. All he remembers about that day was that Yankton was silent. IT was more silent than ever before. No one spoke. There was nothing to say. Jimmy and Tracey were only seven and ten respectively, nut their faces showed a loss of innocence. But now was not the time to reminisce. It was time to figure out what he needed to do. Trevor spoke before he could.

"Well, Wade, I don't know but the Majestic in Star Junction sounds like a good option." Trevor said. He sounded… hopeful?

Michael, Franklin, and Lester traded investigatory looks, before Michael spoke. "Sure whatever,"

Tracey could not hide her excitement. She had stayed at many nice hotels, but this would be the nicest.

"Well we need some transport."

That announcement from Trevor was right. They would need two cars, at least. That was problematic. They were in the most secure airport in America. Mayor Ochoa, who was elected for a third term, and the feds made sure of it. They would have to make sure no alarms went off in the area. The blaring would alert the LCPD and NOOSE to any illicit activity. Franklin was the only one who knew had to pick locks, but that was also problematic. It would be suspicious if a black man in plain clothes was meandering around a parking lot. That was compacted by the fact that he would have to approach these cars and not enter them. He would be with two white men so that would eliminate some of the trouble. He decided to put on a blazer to prevent this. He would look like a valet.

Stealth was the name of the game right now. No noise, no sudden moves. Franklin was ready. He was going to be quiet, no silent as he approached these cars. He steeled himself, exhaling roughly. It was reminiscent of Mike doing yoga Amanda mentally noted. He opened and closed fists as to get his blood flowing, yet calm him. He took the few steps toward the back door of the hangar. The door was metal and painted a chocolate brown it had a stainless steel pushbar a waist level.

"Let's do this," Franklin whispered to himself, preparing himself.

He shoved open the door, dramatically. His eyes were closed as he opened it. He stepped out and to his left. Three cars. Three well polished Oracles. Three well polished, well parked, black Oracles. Three well polished, black Oracles complete with blacked out windows. Three well polished black Oracles with blacked out windows that had Liberty State diplomatic plates. It was too convenient. He approached them. He put his hand on the driver's side door. Unlocked. That was too much of a coincidence. Just then his phone began to ring. The number was unrecognized. He decided he might as well answer it.

"Who's this?"

"Just get into the damn cars already," the voice was familiar. It was Dave Norton's voice. Their favorite FIB agent was helping them.

"How the hell you know we here?"

"Michael is still my ward and since you other two were there, you've become sort of my responsibility too."

"Or," Franklin started as he rolled his eyes, "You have to cover us because you have to cover your ass… completely,"

"While I don't like that sort of wording, yes, you're right." Norton conceded. What kind of lie could he have made up that quickly?

"Okay, we'll stay low like we agreed."

"Yes, I'd very much appreciate that."

Frankly, Franklin was satisfied that that response from Dave. He didn't want to do any more _favors_ for the Bureau as long as he lived. His question was how Dave would have known about they scheme to go to Liberty City. How did he know which hangar they would land at? How did he know anything? The partnership was dissolved. Well, dissolved as much as periodically erasing criminal records could be. It was a simple exchange. Say nothing to any government people about David Norton, say nothing about three bank robbers to federal government. Very simple.

While Franklin was pondering the imponderable he made the three steps back to the door of the current hideout. He opened it and told the entire group of their luck. Trevor was grateful.

"Maybe it is a good thing that you know some fucking feds, pork chop."

Michael didn't even look in Trevor's direction. They loaded the cars. Michael, Amanda, Tracey, and Jimmy took one. Trevor, Ron, Wade, and Chef took the second one. Franklin and Lester sat together in the last car. Michael took off first and the others followed although all three cars were equipped with GPS. They all drove following the law. With the diplomatic plates there was no need but they were now responsible citizens on the United States of America.

Michael's car had the most explosive of the conversation of all. While the party was on the Algonquin-Dukes Expressway, Tracey asked a very innocent question which kicked off an argument.

"So, how long are we going to be staying at the hotel?"

Michael and Amanda answered simultaneously.

"A week," he said

"Forever," she said

"What?" Tracey asked.

"A week," he said again.

"As long as I want to," Amanda said.

"Amanda, we will not be staying in that hotel for longer than necessary. We'll stay there while I look for a permanent place to live. Alderney will probably be the best place. We'll stay out of the limelight and be normal." He said this coolly and with an even voice. That was his prerogative. It wasn't hers.

"Michael, we can stay in the Majestic forever. Hell we could b-" She stopped herself and started again. "Why the hell are you so fucking stingy Michael? We stand behind you and travel across the fucking country and you want us to live in Alderney. Alderney, of all places, Alderney. Alderney, the state that lives in the shadow of the city."

"Amanda," he exhaled. He spat the name like it was poison. "We need to live in the shadows." He ignored everything else she said.

"No, Michael, _you_ need to live in _the shadows. You're the murderer. _You're the one who puts our lives at risk."

"I just saved all your asses." His face was red and his knuckles were white, but he kept the speed limit.

Trevor could see the argument really well in his Oracle. He could see how Amanda was turned toward Michael as he was driving. He could see as their kids sunk into their seats. The conversation in his car was, well, a Trevor-oriented conversation.

"Wade," he started. "Have you ever been to Liberty City?"

"No, Trevor, never," Wade was wary. Anytime Trevor was nice to him something bad happened.

"Well, me neither. We can see the sights and hear the sounds. I'll even get you a L.C. hotdog."

"Really, Trevor?"

"Really. Want you to have fun my boy." Trevor ruffled Wade's dreads. It was easy because Wade had called shotgun."

The 'my boy' part made Wade uncomfortable.

There was mostly silence in Franklin and Lester's car

* * *

The Majestic hotel was, well, majestic. When the crew realized that they would be staying in Star Junction. Star fucking Junction. They all checked in. Michael took the suite that Isaac Roth used to occupy. No one wanted that room since Roth's assassination in 2007. They offered to sell him the room for $1,000,000. That was easy for him to afford he would have to think about it.

"We'll throw in free housekeeping for life." The manager said trying to rid himself of the loft.

"I said, 'I'll think about it'" Michael said in almost a whisper.

Franklin called Lamar to tell him he was safe. It was hard at first Lamar was scared shitless seeing a call from a friend he thought was dead. He thought it could have been the feds.

"IAA, or some shit," Lamar whispered to himself as he closed his blinds.

He didn't want to answer the call. Living in North Holland and being labeled a snitch wouldn't be safe. That's why he ignored the first call. He knew whoever the fuck it was, he didn't want to be north of Middle Park to talk to them. He hopped on the train to escape the neighborhood to receive the call. He hopped in the J from Frankfort Low. He weighed his options of where to get off. Vauxite… naw still in the hood. There were too many people who would recognize him there. Quartz West… nope Mrs. Johnson and her big ass mouth got off there to go to work. She claimed to be 'in the best interest of the North Holland community', but her son ran the crew that was constantly fighting with East Holland and South Bohan. Manganese West didn't work either. Hematite was perfect. A lot of people would be there, so he could blend in. Everyone would be occupied with their own stuff. Golden Pier was the perfect place to make a discreet telephone call.

When he arrived, he called F's number back.

"Hello, Lamar. Is it you?"

"Frank, you still alive. Shit, I thought you drowned out there in L.S." Lamar was relieved.

"No , I got out of there with Mike and his family, and Trev-"

"Crazy dude still alive! Shit, I thought he'd have been the first to die. Or outlive us all. You got a place to stay? Cuz you know a nig-"

"Yes, Lamar I got a place to stay in fact why don't you come over now. I'm at the Majestic on Nickel. You can take the subway right."

"Tanisha was right. Franklin got airs now. And you don't know shit about this town."

"Shut up and hurry your ass down here or up here or from wherever you at."

"Yes, Massa Clinton."

All Franklin did in response was groan and hang up.

Lamar arrived in a Liberty minute. He tipped the driver and walked into the building where he was immediately stopped by a security guard.

"Can I see some I.D. please?" He iquired as he started to grip Lamar's wrists.

"You ain't no cop. Let me go," Lamar said whining, thrashing.

"Stop resisting." The security guard was about to 'detain' him for 'questioning'.

Just then, Franklin stepped out of the elevator and into the crowd that had gathered to see the spectacle. Franklin waded into the crowd to see what was amiss. When he discovered a security guard straddling Lamar, he intervened. He marched over to now tomato-red security guard and with one hand lifted him off. Franklin spoke:

"This man is a friend of mine."

"He is Mr. Clinton?" Dumbfounded

"Yes he is." Brusque

"Well, I apologize to the both of you." The security guard was now in fear for his job.

Franklin helped Lamar up

"Thanks for helping a homie out, Frank." Grateful was Lamar.

"Shit that's what friends do." Franklin said as the manager came rushing through the crowd."

"You're so fired," said the manager.

The security guard removed his nametag and flung it across the room Mid-flight, it hovered in Franklin's face just long enough for him to read it. Herbert Moon.

Franklin and Lamar walked to the front desk. Franklin said only a few words to the hostess on duty.

"Can I get a room for Mr. Davis, here?" Lamar's face perked up. "Preferably one near my room on the fifteenth floor."

The manager came running to the desk. "Mr. Clinton, Mr. Davis. It would be an honor if you both stayed at the hotel for as long as you want gratis."

Franklin's face brightened a little at that announcement. Free anything was good. Lamar's face contorted in confusion.

"You can stay for free to avoid the bad press and your silence… or… um discretion," said the manager, sweating bullets. And by the looks of those bullets, they were .45's. Lamar's face also lifted at the good news.

"Sure we can accept that," Franklin said.

"I'll get your refund Mr. Clinton and your key Mr. Davis," the manager was till on edge. "Room 1527"

Franklin chuckled. He was going to find a permanent place to live. He'd do the same for Lamar. He might get his aunt a place far, far away from him where she and Magenta could work their bodies electric in peace.

* * *

Tell me how I'm doing with this. Candor is desirable.


	7. In the Hotel

"I'm not living in Alderney, Michael, and that's that!" Amanda was red in the face. She didn't want to live in that state.

"Alderney City, Berchem, Leftwood, Westdyke, all of them are options Amanda. Living in the city causes problems for all of us."

"NO, Michael, it causes problems for you. You're the one who kills people and then sits around feeling guilty about it. You just want the silence, but that's not going to happen. You are going to buy this suite. You are going to keep it and be happy."

"Don't you fucking tell me how to feel," Michael's eyes looked murder.

"How fucking ironic Michael. Back in '03 when all this shit started you told me to be happy. 'We're going to live in the sunshine,' you said. 'No more snow,' you said. Then what the fuck is this. Liberty City. It's hot as hell here during the summer. It's cold as Yankton here during the winter. This city's full of assholes, bums, cheats, and degenerates." Her voice went up an octave toward the end of that spiel. Jimmy and Tracey were having a harder time ignoring the yelling.

"It wasn't my decision to come here. Lester made that call. This was the safest place. We blend right in here. We can stay in this city. We can build something new here. We have the money for it now. We started off in trailers Amanda, fuckin' trailers in the Midwest and now we're in the city that never sleeps there so much we can do here."

"My point exactly, Michael. That's why I want to stay right here in Algonquin. Leave Alderney to D'Alderney and all those sad people. You don't want to deal with all of the bikers." She stopped yelling.

"Alright, fine. We can live here. I guess it's closer to the Exchange anyway. By the way most of those bikers transplanted to Trevor's neck of the woods back a few years ago. They're probably dead too. I guess we'll live here." Michael conceded. There were two theories to arguing with women, and neither of them worked. That was in a western movie, 'Marston of West Elizabeth'.

"Right, Mike. We can go see a show on Burlesque anytime we want to."

"How about going tomorrow night? I think maybe 'Red Dead Redemption' is a good one." He was trying to patch things up. Fighting was exhausting.

* * *

Trevor's phone rang in the middle of the night. It was 1:44 AM to be precise. He and Wade were lying in the bed. Wade was asleep, lying on his stomach. To Trevor, Wade had earned his ice cream and hotdog. Wade had taken what Trevor presented to him like a champ. Let's just say that Wade wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for a while on account of the hotel shampoo bottles. No time to think about that. The number had an L.S. area code.

"Hello," Trevor's face was visibly scrunched up as he said the simple word.

"It's your mother, Trevor." She sounded angry through that strange accent she acquired after a stroke.

"Mother, how are you making this call?" He was shocked that she was still in San Andreas. He thought that she had gone to the mainland. At least that's what the note said.

"On a phone, you stupid shit of a boy," she said angrily.

"Do you want me to come and get you?"

"No, your father will come and get me."

"What? You stabbed Poppa to death. That's not possible." He was starting to hyperventilate. Wade was stirring because of the vibrations on the mattress.

"He's right here, you fucking failure." As she said this the sound of the phone passing through air could be heard. "Hey it's your Poppa and I'm fucking your mama real good."

Trevor dropped his phone and was screaming. Then he felt like he was being shaken. It was a big earthquake. He couldn't escape this one. He opened his eyes and Wade was leaning above him. Wade was shirtless and wearing nothing on his lower half either. Trevor realized he was in a different position than he thought. He was on his side, the same position he slept in. Wade lifted him up. They were inches apart.

"You was having a bad dream Trev-" Wade reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a tissue. He needed to wipe a tear away from Trevor's cheek. "We all get nightmares sometimes, Trevor. All we needs is friends to make us feel better." Wade hugged Trevor hard. Like a friend, like a brother would hug the long lost sibling.

Trevor sobbed. Wade was absolute. They stayed like that till the sun rose at 5:30. Trevor didn't realize Wade was capable of such deep compassion.

* * *

Lester came back into his hotel room. He was hungover. The rum-pum-pum of his head was painful to say the least. He'd been bar hopping. Purgatory and Star Junction both had some fun places to pick up lady friends. He would just sit and let them dance around him. One in particular, a blond, performed a striptease for his pleasure. Yes, a striptease in the middle of a night club. She ended up in only a bra and panties. She went outside in only the panties, toplessness being perfectly legal in Algonquin County and the entire city. He even went to Split Sides to get a laugh. Thank God there were taxies everywhere in this city. He got upstairs took a couple of aspirin and went to sleep. Life was going to be one big party from now on.

Shit, this hangover was the worst.

* * *

Lamar woke up in his room. Because he slept on his back, the first sight that greeted him was the ceiling of his room. He gasped. It didn't look familiar.

"Oh, shit. I forgot I was in the Majestic."

He got up and winced as he did so. He looked at his calf. A big, purple contusion stained his left leg. That's where the guard had placed his knee to subdue him. After he took his shower, Lamar turned on the television.

WEAZEL NEWS

The state of San Andreas is still Underwater. It is expected that the land won't be cleared for many, many months. We spoke to some Libertonians about the tragedy.

"After the storm here and the earthquake and subsequent tsunami in San Andreas, both of America's best cities have both been attacked by the biggest terrorist we've got, Mother Nature. I think it's time to strengthen the Jingoism Act."

Others are glad about it.

"This country had too many people anyway. Now we can move on."

No matter what the word on the street is, the disaster will have some economic drawbacks. Vinewood is nonexistent right now. A third of our crops grow in that region. Other states, New Austin and West Elizabeth in particular, and Nuevo Paraiso, Mexico are clamoring to make up for the loss. We can all expect to see the prices of food to go up. Be prepared for exorbitant rates on everything. Supermarkets in the area may soon be empty.

\- Mike Whitley WEAZEL NEWS

Lamar turned the television off. He felt bad for all those people in the hood who were probably now floating on the Pacific Ocean. Franklin was here. He's the only one that mattered. When he heard that the big one hit, Franklin, his best friend was the only one he cared about. Franklin was there for him even if he was mercurial, downright bipolar at times. But that was all he had. He would have to find a place to live. He couldn't stay in this hotel forever.

* * *

Please Review


	8. A New Place for Franklin

"AAAAAHHHHHH," Trevor was woken out of another nightmare. This one was bad to. He was outside of his body watching as he but a pistol to his brother's head. He pulled the trigger and watched as blood and brain matter leaked out of his head. He watched as the other Trevor cupped his hands in front of the leaking skull and smeared it all over his face like sick camouflage. The part that made him scream is when his mother would walk into the room.

Again Wade was there in the bed. This time he was wearing full pajamas. Trevor hadn't 'been' with Wade since that first night in the hotel. Every night Trevor had been having nightmares. They were getting worse by degrees. They were becoming more and more violent. Trevor lived a violent life. He killed people in all sorts of ways. He guessed it was all coming back to haunt him now.

"Trevor, it's okay." Wade hugged him like he would hug a teddy bear.

"No, Wade, it's not okay. These dreams keep getting worse," he said, sobbing.

Wade was tired of all of the nightmares that Trevor was having. It cost him sleep and when you were coming down from meth, sleep was not to be disturbed. Trevor had gotten him like this and now he was falling apart. Trevor, that is. There was no time for that. So, Wade did something on impulse. He would have never done this when he was in Sandy Shores. He slapped Trevor. Yes he did. He opened his palm and went about Trevor's left cheek. It sounded a lot harder than it was but the strike definitely caught the Canadian's attention. Trevor's brown eyes were always expressive. Now in the moonlight they glowed. They weren't at all angry. They were… vulnerable. They were like the eyes of a toddler who's been separated from a loving mother in a big mall. Wade spoke.

"Trevor you need to calm down. That's what you told me when I realized Daisy Bell and Kush Chronic weren't coming back. I felt bad when they left me. But, you stayed with me and made me feel better. You slapped me out of my panic and showed me that if I listen to you and stayed with you everything will be alright."

"But it's not alright."

"Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, Trevor!" Wade could remember the last time he yelled like that. He never raised his voice especially to Trevor.

"I'm sorry, sir." Trevor's eyes had changed into hollow spheres of nothingness.

* * *

That was the same night Amanda and Michael went out and saw that play, 'Red Dead Redemption' on Burlesque. The night air in Liberty City was hot and humid. The sky, at least didn't have that ugly orange tinge to it like it did in LS. It was a good show too. Michael hailed a taxi and they rode back to the hotel. The kids were out doing something. They had both said something about a 'Maisonette 9' or something like that. They were just getting acclimated to the city. Michael figured that he club scene in the city would be where the kids would flock to.

As for them, the bright lights of Star Junction were enough. They didin't know that nowadays, they didn't glow so brightly. All of the signs used to advertise the shitty shows that came out of Vinewood. The seasons of the reality shows were put on hold as the writers were trying to reconcile the fact that none of the stars had died during the disaster even though so many citizens did. Now the billboards were for aid to L.S. and Blaine. It was ironic after all of the ads that were running after the big storm in Liberty City. The news feeds were the only things in the area that looked normal. Michael's phone buzzed. He checked his phone, which was resting on the bedside table, and saw that his bank account had been filled with $515,850,000.00. He at the same moment received an email from Augury Insurance that read:

Dear Mr. De Santa,

Your bank account has received the funds for the insurance of Richards' Majestic Productions of which you owned thirty-eight percent (38%). Augury is sorry for the loss of your business/property and wishes you well in your future endeavors. If you are a shareholder your dividends may be delayed for several weeks. If not, ignore the last statement.

Sincerely,

David Vordersuegerren

CEO of Augury Insurance

"Damn, I get richer by the day," he chuckled.

* * *

Franklin moved out about a week later. He found a lovely condo on the East Side of town. It was somewhat quiet but it was still Algonquin. It was on Albany Avenue. It was of a rather modern design that reminded him of the place that he left in L.S. It didn't have a view of the skyscrapers of Algonquin, though. It faced east, so there was a beautiful view of Dukes with its one iconic building in view. The sunrises would be the most spectacular thing in the mornings, too, being on the seventh floor and all . Most of the residents in the building seemed to be nice folks. Well, nice for rich assholes. Two of the women in the building were particularly nice to him. They were perplexed by the fact that he was moving in with only one suitcase.

"I left my old life behind," was his cryptic answer.

One of them, she had a bit of a Bohan accent, said, "You know what why don't you come to my apartment tonight and get to know your neighbors."

"Sure," started the other woman, who had red hair, "it'll be good to get to know our new neighbor.

They spoke as if Franklin was not present. They went on like a couple of hens. He tuned them out. It was their plan and that was that.

That evening came and Franklin reluctantly made his way down to that woman's apartment. The short conversation he had didn't give him an opportunity to catch either of their names. Well, it would be a small dinner party. Both of the ladies and their families would be there. Franklin was still getting used to the fact that he had to take an elevator, when he arrived on the third floor. He wearing a pair onyx suit pants that he bought from Perseus that day, and a blue shirt that made it into his suitcase from L.S. It was another hot and sticky day with a high of eighty-eight and a humidity of ninety percent. It really felt like 113 degrees, but the walk to Perseus was short and Franklin was from L.S.

When the elevator door opened, the smell of good food hit him like a wave. This was certainly better than Burger Shot and Cluckin' Bell. The ladies could be heard gossiping about Samantha Muldoun or someone. Franklin wanted to laugh. He suppressed it. They heard the ding of the elevator's arrival and perked up. They both emerged from behind the kitchen island and greeted him.

The Latina spoke first, "Hello, um… um. Oh my goodness, we never got your name. You invite someone to your house for dinner and you don't even get their name. My name is Mallorie Bardas-Bellic."

"And I'm," started the other one," Kate Bellic."

"Our husbands are cousins and they are also your landlords. So, what's your name?"

"I'm Franklin Clinton, and I," he hesitated, "I'm from Los Santos."

"WHAT?" They screamed simultaneously. Mallorie's jaws parted, leaving her mouth ajar, but not agape.

"I know it's a long story, but let's say that I was the last plane out of that town before _it _happened."

"You poor dear," Kate started, "That's why you only had the one suitcase. If there's anything you need, you just-"

"It is alright, I have some friends here who are looking after me," he said.

"I still think you should talk to our husbands to get some help with the rent," Mallorie insisted.

Just then two men stepped out of the elevator. They both looked Eastern European, maybe Russian. They both looked like they had been through Hell in their youth, as their similar features showed a fatigue for life and its misfortunes. They were both about the same age, mid-thirties most likely family by the resemblance. One was thin and the other more… rotund in shape. The thinner one looked as if he had some definition to his muscles, not emaciated at all. He got good exercise, what from, Franklin dare not wonder. They stopped as they saw a strange man in one the apartment. The thin one saw that the ladies were relaxed, so he relaxed.

"Who's this," asked the fat one.

"This is your new tenant, Franklin Clinton." Mallorie answered her husband

"How's it going," Franklin asked politely as he outstretched his hand to shake those of his landlords.

"Fine, I'm Niko Bellic and this is my cousin Roman." Niko said returning the gesture to the new acquaintance. Roman followed suit with a firm handshake.

"So, tell 'em where you're from Frank. Is it okay if I call you that." Mallorie asked.

"Sure, you can. That's what my friends call me. Anyway, I'm from Los Santos."

"Oh, shit. You must be glad you're alive man," Roman said in astonishment.

"That's why I want to talk to you guys," Mallorie continued, "You gotta give him a couple of months to get back on his feet, financially."

"Absolutely," Kate chimed in.

"Fine, anything to help out a friend in need," Niko said. :Kate do you mind, I invited Patrick over for din-"

"I'm here, everyone," called the voice of Patrick from the elevator.

Franklin perked up at the familiar voice._ "You have got to be fucking kidding me,"_ he thought. He turned around and faced Packie

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Packie's face contorted, "YOU'RE STILL ALIVE?!"

"Yes I am. You're still alive, I see. I'm glad," Franklin said genuinely, rising to give Packie a friendly hug. Packie was surprised. It wasn't often he was hugged by someone who wasn't his mother or his sister. The hug lasted a little to long for comfort for most of the people in the room. It was a new and complete feeling for both the men. They parted from their embrace before either of them wanted to. Roman coughed and Kate chuckled inwardly.

Niko broke the awkward silence, "Packie, Franklin can I see you two in private for a second," He said as he walked towards his living room. The other two walked into the other room with Niko.

* * *

"Okay, how do you know each other?" Niko started his eyes were attentive to their body language. They were already standing a little closer than he would have to anyone, save his wife.

"Well... you know I left L.C. back in 2010 and I went to L.S." Packie said, starting as if this was going to be a long story.

"Okay," said Niko, still spying the distance between the two men.

"Well, I didn't meet Franklin until this year when he saved my ass from being arrested because my partner was an ass."

"Okay." Niko was still trying to put the dynamic together.

"So we did some of those big jobs together Vangelico, Blaine County, Union Depository,"

"Okay." Franklin couldn't believe that Niko was so nonchalant about being told that he robbed the biggest bank in the country.

"You know I came back here very soon after that and have been off the radar since," Packie said, now turning towards Franklin, "Franklin, this is the same Niko that I said was dead. I only said that because I wanted to protect my sister."

"I understand," was all Franklin said.

"Alright we'd better get back to them before they get too suspicious." Niko said, gesturing towards the dining area.

"Niko," Franklin started, "Don't worry, that rent will be in your hands on the first in an envelope, in cash."

Niko chuckled.


	9. The End?

TEN MONTHS LATER, JUNE 5th

Michael's alarm woke him out of a strange dream. He slumber had taken him back to when he was a teenager. In fact, it was 1979. He was back on his high school football team, the Knights. It was the night he lost his virginity in fact. It was with Doris McDonald in the back of his old car. It had been the night of the big game. He had scored the winning touchdown and advanced the school to state. Doris, who had felt prior, that it was wrong to have before marriage, lost her inhibitions that night. It was a combination of pride for the Knights and tepid Pißwassers shouted, "Do me, do me." And like the teenager he was, he did, well that was an order wasn't it. The dream then fast forwarded to when he got home that night. It was late. His dad, drunk as a skunk, had stayed up that night, furiously awaiting his son. When the trailer's door, opened Horace Townley jumped up from his seat. His dad was not the template for his appearance, but rather, Jimmy's later. The hair that had not receded blazed red with some of the roots hinting at gray. Horace Andrew Townley was a menace to the trailer park, and to the town. He was so well known that he had seen, several times, the inside of each of the five cells in the jail. He knew each nook and cranny. The sheriff says that Horace had the town record for arrests, beating out Gerald Kidd from way back in 1877. Michael could not say he was surprised by that.

"Where the fuck you been boy?" the older man said.

"I was out dad," Michael said trembling, in a voice that sounded just like Jimmy's.

"Out where, you stupid fuck" He said getting angrier.

"With some friends," Mike was now quivering violently with fear.

"You had better start telling the goddamn truth," Horace said as he broke the bottle on the floor, "or so help me." Horace got up in a split second and was now in his son's, his only son's, face.

"I… I was out with Doris and we made whoopee," Michael said.

"You mean to tell me, you got some tail, boy?"

"Yessir," Michael's words slammed together; he was petrified.

"Well, why didn't you say that? Let me get you a beer." Horace said as his features softened into exceeding approval. Horace opened the distance between father and son as he went to the kitchen to retrieve a fresh beer. "Boy, did you wear a rubber?

"Yessir," still scared beyond belief.

"Good, don't want no unwanted motherfuckers around do we?"

"No sir," he was less frightened.

"Damn straight," Horace said emerging with two beers in his hand. "This is for you, boy," extending his hand to take the brown bottle.

"Thank you sir," Michael said grasping it, knuckles white. His head would throb the next morning, but his dad insisted that he stayed home from the school the next day. Horace invited some prostitutes.

* * *

That's when he woke up to the beep beep beep. It was early and the sun was rising. He forgot for a second why he had to get up so early. "They're getting married today." He spoke with, as expected, the bass that came with awaking, more so when it was early. Amanda, who was already awake, but lying down only nodded as she got up. It was six in the morning and she didn't want to move, much less attend a ceremony in uncomfortable clothes. She rose as the alarm persisted in its call to wakefulness. She reached over the pale, muscular mass that was her husband and silenced it. Michael started to move as the sun which rose early, in the begging of June started to hit where his open eyes would have been. He saw nothing but white as he moved his head trying to avoid the harsh, glaring radiance.

A knock was heard at the door, but the person did not want entry. "Ma, Pop, it's time to wake up for this wedding." It was Jim's voice that reverberated into the room.

"Alright, alright, we're up," Amanda shouted back, her normal voice having been returned by slumber.

Michael now swung his legs out of bed, causing his feet to make a thud on the floor, that, had it been made any lower in the dwelling would have woken Mrs. Devereux, the old, no, archaic heiress of the Maxwell-Livingston real estate agency, but had only served to wake the tired Tracey De Santa, who had needed to wake up because she was invited to the nuptials, that started at ten in the morning across the West River, which had, over the last few months, frozen and thawed. "Fuck," was all she mumbled. She looked over at the alarm clock. 6:11.

They all showered, ate, and dressed. Michael wore a tuxedo that he bought from the Perseus down in the Exchange. He owned the tux because he was often on the LC red carpets. He had directed two independent films in the last year. Both of them won Hussy Awards. Jim also wore a tuxedo purchased from Perseus, because he'd starred in the first film. The girls decided to get there dresses from somewhere on Columbus. They were exquisite, expensive dresses, but Michael didn't care about money anymore. Money wasn't an object.

* * *

The De Santas were ready and all piled into the car. For some reason, they had chosen to get married in Broker, on the beach. Sure, beach weddings were nice, but Firefly wasn't most people's idea of romantic. They'd said they didn't want to stray to far from home. "Florida still woulda been nice," Michael grunted as he started his vehicle, a Cognoscenti.

"Well that's what they wanted," Amanda reasoned, "I just don't want to get stuck with any hypodermic needles."

"That beach cannot be that dirty," Tracey protested, "Of course, I've never taken the time to go out there."

James piped in, "I can assure you that it is. Bad experience."

"Well don't worry. They got a permit for a certain part of the beach and yesterday, they hired a cleaning firm to remove all the debris. So, no needles and no raw sewage, at least not today," Michael said as he neared the Broker Bridge.

"I'm surprised they wanted a minister to do this," Amanda honestly remarked.

"Why?" Michael's brow furrowed as he asked.

"Well, because City Hall was an option," said she.

"That's true, but they wanted to be on the beach. It brings back good memories for the both of them."

"I think it's sweet," Tracey added.

"Do you know where they're going for the honeymoon?" asked Jimmy.

"Nope, but they did say that they would move out west someplace." Mike replied.

"So long as it's not the Mid-west," Amanda sighed

Quoth Michael, "Amen."

"It can't be too bad out there. They just get a bad wrap because of this countries long history of sectionalism," Tracey said airily, imperiously.

"We know you're in school Tracey," Jimmy whined.

"Whatever, I'm just saying that we should not dare to talk about our great country like that!" exclaimed she, with enough vehemence to power the city for a day.

Amanda turned, haltingly at first, to face her daughter in the rear driver's side seat, "Since when, were you such a patriot?"

"Samantha Muldoon is inspirational," was the girl's simple answer.

Michael chuckled, "If only Trev had heard you say that."

"What?" inquired the bewildered bleach blonde.

"You're '_uncle_" he stressed that word out of sarcasm, "would explode if he knew you actually liked that fake pop country singer."

"Here, here," Jimmy added.

"We just won't tell him now, will we?" Amanda said, as the car pulled up to the beach.

* * *

It was about ten o'clock. The people to be wed were there both of them sweating bullets. One was pacing in one of the tents. The other was actually twiddling thumbs in anticipation and nervousness. They, both being old fashion, decided not to see each other before the wedding. The Reverend Sanford glanced down at his watch and went to each of the tents, telling the occupants therein to 'prepare' themselves. All of the invited were starting to sweat when both of the people emerged. No one was to be given away so they each walked down the aisle. They were both dressed in the finest clothes that could be envisioned. The minister smiled at the couple and at the assembled.

"Dearly beloved, we gathered here in the sight of God and witnesses to behold the greatest thing the Lord bestowed upon us, the gift of love. These two people have come here to show that they love each other to each other, and to you and the rest of the world. They have come of their own free will to pledge this and to be united by the Holy Ghost in Matrimony. You have all come to witness, celebrate and share in their happiness. May I have the rings?"

Jimmy gave the reverend the rings

"Do you, Franklin Clinton," said the clergyman as the ring was slipped onto the black man's finger, "take Patrick McReary to be your lawfully wedding husband to cherish, serve and protect him as long as you shall live,"

"I do." Franklin said smiling, cheekily.

"Do you, Patrick Reginald McReary take Franklin Clinton, as you lawfully wedded husband to cherish serve and protect him as long as you both shall live."\

"I do," Packie said

"With consent and mutual love you have been bonded 'til do you part. By the power vested in me by God and the State of Liberty, I pronounce you married. Franklin, Patrick you may kiss your husband. Their lips approached each other. They were centimeters away from gleeful osculation.

* * *

BACK TO THE PRESENT, SEPTEMBER 6th

That's when Franklin opened his eyes. The light came in to his eyes and the pain came into his head. It wasn't the next year on a beach in Broker. It was here and now. He was in his bed. It was about nine in the morning and he had the hangover to end all hangovers. There was body right next to him. He didn't remember inviting a girl up to his place last night. Shit, he didn't remember last night at all. He was surprised he had such a vivid dream. How could he have a dream so detailed, so complete? He was out of his body. He surmised that the things he dreamt about Michael in his childhood were from all those conversations over beers in either of their houses or in some now nameless bar. But, why was he marrying a man, on the beach. He was straight as an arrow. Yup, straight and narrow. He wanted to marry Tanisha on a beach not Patrick fucking McReary of Dukes, Liberty City. Tanisha was gone but that didn't mean that he'd started to like those of the same sex. What the fuck?

"Ah, shit. That was one fuck of a dream. Me kissing Packie," he scoffed, ignoring the fact that even the utterance made his morning erection twitch. "How much did I drink last night?" Franklin said, grabbing his temples.

That solicited a groan from a mass of human warmth beside him, beneath the covers.

"Huh," said he, as he moved the blanket that covered the mysterious guest. He moved it to reveal a naked white man. It was Packie. "Shit, shit, shit! What the fuck?!" He shouted as he got out of bed, unaware that he was nude.

"Huh who's making all that noise," said the Irishman as he opened his eyes to find a naked man in his vision. "Oh shit," he said sitting up. He regretted that instantly as a throb resounded in the recesses of his skull.

"What did we do last night?" Packie asked looking at Franklin, in the eye at first but gazing lower after a few seconds.

"Shit, I don't know, but by the looks of it we both had too much to drink last night," Franklin looked at Patrick's eyes and self-consciously raised the bed sheet to cover himself. He thought he saw a cute pout on the other's face once his manhood was hidden.

"_Wait a second, Franklin_" he thought, "_cute pout. You don't think that this guy is cute. You don't think any guy is cute. You're not gay. It just happened when you were drunk. You fucked this hot guy when you were drunk that's all. Wait, hot guy."_ Audibly, "Well he is good looking."

"What!?" asked a hysterical Patrick. Inwardly, "_He think that I'm good looking, crooked nose and all."_

"Well it's just that, well, we did it, we ought to see where this goes," F said, in his most rational voice. He said that without even thinking. That whole "I'm straight as an arrow. Straight and narrow." shit seemed to go flying straight out of the window and land on the cold hard sidewalk.

"What!?" same tone as before. Inwardly, "_He thinks he's gonna have the upper hand. You wish."_

"Calm down let's just get dressed."

"Okay," the Irishman replied.

* * *

Packie called downstairs and called Kate. Boy, was he embarrassed. He was calling his little sister to bring him clothes after a sexual escapade. She not having over-indulged, remembered clearly the events of last night. She remembered when they left to 'catch up' over some beers. She knew it would be more than catching up. They seemed to have some history. She always knew her brother was different. She took the elevator up, left the clothes at the threshold of the door, and proceeded downstairs with a smile. Niko greeted her downstairs.

"You owe me twenty dollars." He said, "Pay up,"

"I knew he was different, but not this kind of different," she said taking two ten dollar bills out of her wallet.

"Well, I did. One night we got drunk and that's what he wanted."

"I guess your just attractive to all McRearys," she said reaching up for a kiss

"I guess so," as they locked lips.

After pulling apart,"Well I guess we all have to settle down after a while," Niko said squeezing his wife.

* * *

At that very instant, Wade was leaving, of his own free will, from Trevor's filthy hotel room with a heavy, brown suitcase full of clothes he purchased in the city, and in his pocket a plane ticket for Blackwater, West Elizabeth. He was going home. He was going to start again. Trevor was within the dirty room sobbing into a 'd lost everything, his taste for meth, his toughness, and the only thing that brought him joy, Wade. The door was shut and the footsteps faded into silence.

* * *

Firstly, thank you all for reading with a special thanks to those who reveiwed (positively or otherwise). To those who've asked yes there will be a sequel. In fact there will be a prequel as well to describe how both Kate and Roman are still alive. The sequel may deal with how Packie and Frankie will handle what's happened, or more accurately put, what the did. Until then, I invite all of you to read _Aiden Pearce in the Polar Vortex_, which will also wrap up soon.

'Til we see each other again, remember to remember to remember.

-Wherenwhy


End file.
